


Love Forged from the Bite

by JusticeIsBittersweet



Series: A Different Kind of Love [1]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2955950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticeIsBittersweet/pseuds/JusticeIsBittersweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Lucy gone, all they can do is turn to each other for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Forged from the Bite

Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is the blood.

I can feel it, slick over my hands, splattered like paint across my face in scarlet streaks. I hear the crying, the screaming, see Lucy’s contorted face as her skin is torn apart, the wolf howling with laughter as he caught his prey in his jaws, shredding piece after piece with those sharp teeth. Her muscles strain against the motions, trying to pull her limbs away from the mages, trying to keep herself intact. Something tears. Bones crack. She screams, flailing helplessly, and all I can do is watch in repulsion as her flesh is slowly eaten down to the bone. By the time they retreat, I am allowed to see the full sight for myself.

Her face is tilted in my direction, staring at me with glazed eyes. Her left arm is lying a few feet away from her shredded corpse, the white of bone exposed to my sight. The rest of her isn’t much better, her left leg completely gnawed away. Bile rises in my throat, the sight of her blood-soaked body filling me with a sense of dread and a weight of hopelessness that I hadn’t felt since Igneel went missing. No, worse. I feel…

Jesus. No, she can’t be…that. She can’t. Lucy is the light that fuels us all. She is the one who keeps me going even when my very soul is drained to the limit, the one who, if she calls, I will always go running to. To see her lying there, motionless, to know that I have failed her when she screamed my name until her throat went hoarse…

“Fuck.” I can’t comprehend this. She isn’t dead. She’s playing. Pretending. I’ll wake up and this will be nothing more than a nightmare. I’ll be lying in her bed, wrapped around her while she sleeps with her head nestled into my neck. I’ll be able to kiss her hair, tell her I love her, and when she wakes, I’ll fake sleeping so she won’t know I was staring. This won’t be real. Her smile will reassure me that she’s still alive, that she’ll always be there and I’ll always be able to protect her.

I turn my horrified gaze to the mages standing above her. They leer at me with smug smirks, as if knowing the thoughts running through my mind, and all of a sudden, I am reminded of the Grand Magic Games, when I failed to save Lucy that time as well. Granted, it wasn’t my Lucy, but it was Lucy all the same. I have never forgiven myself for that. There are still times when I wake up sobbing from the memory, only able to fall back asleep when her melodic voice whispers comfortingly in my ear. The wolf-mages creep closer, their growls morphing into guttural laughter, harsh as stones to my sensitive hearing. I struggle to manoeuvre myself upright. My arms tremble with exertion, my back straining to stay straight, and I eventually manage to climb to my feet. I can feel the weight of Gray’s stare fall upon me, knowing he too is as shocked as I am.

He asks me what I’m doing, before trailing off when he realises my intentions. Never before have I killed a man, but when someone dares touch Lucy it’s like I’m a different person. A burning fire rages within me, blinding me with the ferocity of its anger and pushing me to a breaking point. I dart forward, my rage taking over, and next thing I know I’m crouched beside her, surrounded by the corpses of her killers, their blood staining my hands. Gray gapes at me, either in fright or shock, but I don’t pay any attention to him. Instead, I take the remains of her lifeless form into my arms, cradling her as I let the tears flow. My sobs turn into howls. Even when Gray tries to prise me off her, I don’t let go. I can’t let go. If I leave her, everything will crumble. Reality will sink in. She’ll be…

She is…

I’m screaming now. Maybe my mouth is forming words, maybe it’s just unintelligible roars. I don’t know. Gray’s holding me now, his arms wrapped around my chest, head resting against my shoulder and under normal circumstances I’d push him away…but this isn’t normal, and I can feel the wetness of his tears sink into my clothes. His arms tighten around me. My throat burns and my screams peter out until the silence of death becomes the only noise lingering.

 

* * *

 

I don’t leave her bed.

People used to come and go in a valiant effort to get me up and about, but after a while I guess they just gave up. It’s only me now, and occasionally Happy, though I guess even he knows I’m not going to be the best of company. I think he hangs around Gray now. After all, I’m not the only one who was there that day. Gray was affected just as much as me, was as helpless as me, and I’m one of the few people that actually know how close the two were to each other. Lucy saw Gray as a brother. That familial connection was something I can never seem to get from anyone, a connection I crave just as much as the next person. The bond they shared was closer even than the one I had with Lucy, but people just didn’t see it.

The funeral comes. Gray visits to see me rolled up within the duvet, trying desperately to get a whiff of her familiar scent. It’s gone. All I can smell is myself on these sheets, the smell of guilt and body odour, the stains of tears and alcohol marking the white linen. I curl up, trying to ease the now all too familiar pain in my stomach.

Gray watches through red-rimmed eyes. He tells me we should leave soon, to which I respond that I’m not coming. I roll away from his frown of disapproval. The bed dips slightly when he sits next to my hunched form, a hand lightly resting against my shoulder. He tells me it’s my last chance to say goodbye. He tells me it’s what she would want.

I stay silent. The reason I can’t go is because it will be like severing all connections. I can’t do it. Seeing her beautiful white casket, all the while knowing that inside, she lies torn and still. I can’t do it. Imagining her buried so far into the ground, knowing I’ll never be able to reach her, never be able to touch her again, to hear her silky laugh or the playful scorn in her voice…fuck, I’m crying again. I’m sick of crying. Sick of being so bloody depressed. I hate feeling like this, like there’s a weight hanging over me. It’s the weight of a death. _I_ caused her death. I failed to protect her. I failed…

I…

If only I hadn’t taken her with me. She had wanted to stay behind with Levy. Her rent wasn’t due for another month. I was just so bored. Gray agreed to come with me because he needed money and no one was able to do any missions, and Lucy decided to come along just to make sure we didn’t end up killing each other.

But she…she was the one…

I feel the icy hand rub soothing circles from my shoulder to my back. “She was your best friend,” Gray whispers.

“It’s my fault.”

The hand stills for a fraction of a second before continuing in its movement. “You’ll feel even guiltier if you don’t go.”

Silence descends. He stays with me awhile, not saying anything, just giving comfort. It’s odd, coming from him, but he isn’t as overbearing as the others are. And, though I can’t believe I’m saying this, I prefer his company right now over anyone else’s.

In the end, he leaves before he misses the funeral and I’m left alone once more. I try to sleep, but with the absence of Lucy’s scent, I’m unable to stop shifting. I decide to get up, showering for the first time in days and making myself the slightest bit presentable, then I travel to the kitchen to find some food. My search results in nothing. I don’t want to go out, but at the same time my hunger is finally getting the better of me. The sun blinds me as I step outside, my eyes unaccustomed to the light since I’ve spent the last few days indoors. My feet take shaky steps through the quiet city, and I think for a moment how strange it is to be so empty until I realise most people will be attending the funeral. Everyone loved Lucy. She was so kind, so gentle, like a beacon of light to a horde of moths, always attracting attention wherever she went. I pause, looking towards the direction of the church.

Fuck it.

My decision made, I start towards the cemetery.

I immediately regret coming.

So much sorrow. So much pain. So many people. Despite having Gray beside me, I don’t feel any comfort. There is no sense of closure from seeing the cage that confines her lowered to the ground. There is no relief or liberation from my emotional turmoil as I throw the flower I hold over her coffin, along with the other Guild members. Before long, final goodbyes are said. Gray is dragging me away, arm around my shoulders as we numbly walk back through the city towards the Guild.

We sit in sullen silence, swigging back our drinks and letting the alcohol slowly intoxicate our bodies to the point of oblivion. I rest my head against his ice cold chest. All strength has left me. I feel so weak, so feeble, like my soul has been torn from me, leaving only a shell behind. Sometimes, I wish I _was_ gone. Dead. At least then, I’d get to be with Lucy.

The tears come again. Strange. I thought I’d already been wrung dry of them, yet they still keep coming. Gray feels me shaking, grasps me firmly in his arms, holding me upright, holding me desperately together even as we are both falling apart. He keeps telling me he knows, over and over again, like a broken record stuck on repeat. In return, I reach up, clasp one of his hands, and we both sit, like shattered glass, fragmented across the ground, waiting to be picked up once more.

 

* * *

 

They cleared out Lucy’s apartment today. Gray offered me a place at his, knowing I don’t really want to be alone, yet I don’t want to lash out or be an even heavier burden upon him. Happy stays with him, as usual, and I make my way home, letting myself in to the empty cottage.

Never before have I felt so alone.

 

* * *

 

The Guild doesn’t feel right anymore. It’s too quiet. Everywhere I look, I see a flash of blonde hair, hear her light laugh, feel the fading presence of the past. It’s too much to bear, which is why I have never set foot in it since the funeral.

I don’t take missions. I’m reminded once again of my missing other half, my partner in crime.

I hardly eat anymore. Indulging myself in such pleasures reminds me of how we first met.

In the end, I always find myself at Gray’s when the depressive atmosphere gets too much to bear. Together, we drink away our sorrows, finding solace and comfort, at least for a night, in the soothing poison of cheap liquor and, more often than not, in each other’s arms.

 

* * *

 

One night, I’m lying curled into his side, the two of us pressed against each other to fit on the narrow couch of his strangely warm living area. He stares intently at the roaring fire, seemingly hypnotised by the flicker of delicate flames which cast shadows about the room and send his face into shadow. I take the opportunity to study him closely, now there’s no distractions, nothing to prevent me. I see the stress in the creases of his forehead. I see sleepless nights in the bags beneath his eyes. I see a hollow being, a shell of his former self, a tired, weary young man fed up with the misfortunes of life. The emotions I can see by reading his face are so similar to mine.

My arms tighten around him. I press myself further into his side, burying my face into his bare chest.

 

* * *

 

Everyone he loves always leaves him. Everyone he has held dearly has always died. He says he doesn’t want to lose me to. Will he lose me? I can see he’s just barely composing himself as he asks.

We are currently going through the regular motions of our nightly routine, a quick dinner followed by a drowning of wine to wash it down. This is the time he usually loosens up, lets me in, brings out his soft side, the vulnerable side. I like it, yet find it strangely weird to see one of the strongest mages reduced to an emotional wreck. It isn’t his nature.

I can’t answer his question; I down my glass instead, holding it out for more, to which he obliges, filling it with crimson liquid, the sight reminding me of blood spilt from an innocent girl. The glass almost slips out of my grip, though the flashback ends almost as quickly as it came and I am able to regain purchase. Silence descends for a while. Silence comes often now, like a second friend to us, always present in the times we need it. When I break it, I am finally able to tell him what he secretly knows; that I don’t want him to lose me and I don’t want to lose him now that we only seem to have each other now, yet there is no guarantee that either of us can survive in a world that has proved time and time again to be a truly brutal place to live.

 

* * *

 

The tension rises. Happy seems to sense our building frustrations, left the house earlier this evening to find Erza or Lisanna. The two of us are alone now.

It’s been a while since we properly fought. Personally, I blame the alcohol for loosening his tongue, though I know I am somewhat to blame. I’ve always antagonised him, goading him to rise up against me. It’s always been like this, yet we have never officially argued with such anger before.  Hate truly surges within me now as I throw the first punch, my heartache and anger forced from my fist into his skin, embedding itself in his soul. He retaliates with a kick to the stomach; I stumble backwards before regaining my footing and sending an elbow flying into his face. Soon, the bedroom is wrecked, our breathing laboured, several bruises already starting to blossom on our skin. I pay no heed.

He seems to realise what he’s done, apologises profusely that evening, though the damage has been done. He’s told me what he really thinks, what I honestly think. Lucy’s death was my fault, he’s completely right about that. Doesn’t mean he needs to point it out. I go take a walk, leaving him behind to wallow in his misery, alone to his thoughts, while I go to the lake to calm myself. In my mind’s eye, I see two young boys fighting over who is stronger. The pink-haired one always seems to lose, I notice with a smirk. Yes, Gray has always been stronger, no matter how much I loathe to admit it.

A sigh escapes my lips. I’m tired, exhausted of everything. In fact, I’m half tempted to enter the dark waters below and never resurface, sealing my fate with a comforting finality. I frown. Should I? It seems a fairly simple solution, though just as I’m visualising the silken grasp of death claiming my soul with glee, promising me freedom, Gray’s voice comes unbidden to my mind.

_Will I lose you?_

He sounded so sincere, so remorseful when he asked me that. It breaks my heart every time I recall that moment, his broken voice, the look in his eyes that told me everything I needed to know. Again, I sigh, allowing myself to fall back into the familiar pool of darkness that has consumed my life. I should go back. Apologise. Make sure he’s ok. Yet I can’t move. Why? My muscles seem to seize up, preventing me from leaving my comfortable position, simply staring at the silvered surface of the lake, the murky depths seeming to swallow my soul until I succumb to a deep slumber on the bank, dreaming of pained cries and a familiar voice screaming my name.

 

* * *

 

I go back to his house when I wake an hour later and my heart almost stops.

His name pours out of my mouth in a scream of anguish as I rush forward to scoop him into my arms, shaking his unconscious, bloodied form. My heart pounds as I fumble to feel his pulse, loosening his shirt to gain access to his neck. It’s cold. That means nothing; he’s always cold. My fingers are trembling. I’m shouting his name over and over again, begging for some miracle, for him to open his eyes, to move the slightest inch…

“Please, don’t leave me,” I’m begging.

He stays silent and I howl.

 

* * *

 

I hunch by his side anxiously as Wendy fusses over him. The blue-haired mage swipes his hair away, peels back his eyelid to gaze into his eye. After a small examination, she rushes me outside and I’m left waiting for a whole hour before I’m told to come back in. I’m relieved to see the noticeable rise and fall of his chest.

I can’t thank her enough. I end up offering her the guest room; it’s too late for her to make the long trek back to her home again, plus it would be handy to have someone with medical expertise in the house, just in case Gray…

I slump over his sleeping form, kneeling beside his bed and resting my head on his chest. It feels familiar. Comfortable. It reminds me of the many nights we’ve spent together, pressed against each other. The reassuring sound of his heartbeat lulls me into a gentle slumber, and I only stir when I feel ice cold fingers carding through my hair.

My eyes, heavy with sleep, look up to meet his soulless gaze.

He tells me he’s sorry. He can’t remember much of what happened; after I’d left, all he knew was the slash of a knife against his wrists, the feeling of hurt and anger overwhelming him before all went black. He says he didn’t mean what he said. Lucy’s death isn’t your fault, he assures. Oh Gray, how I’d love to believe that.

“Oi, idiot. I said it isn’t your fault. Do I have to beat it into your thick skull?”

We both smile at the familiar situation, and I realise that it’s the first time I’ve actually smiled since the murder. I take Gray’s free hand in my own, he keeps his other hand in my hair and for the first time, I feel a glimmer of hope stir within me.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a year. I still haven’t taken a mission, but at least I’m able to walk into the Guild again. I was welcomed back with open arms. I had a drink with Cana. I listened to the latest gossip from Mira. I smiled at Juvia, who has now set her sights on Lyon, to Gray’s relief. Elfman and Evergreen are planning on getting married, something which will thankfully allow the minds of the Guild members to settle on something less depressing. Lucy still haunts us all, but we are finally starting to move on.

I’ve moved in with Gray. After all, I spend most of my time at his that I don’t need my own home any more, though I suspect an ulterior motive. He thinks I don’t notice the looks he sends me. Bastard. He’s assumed that I’m so oblivious, completely blind to everything. I know what you’re thinking, Gray and it’s not happening. No way. A relationship is off limits for now. Maybe forever. I don’t know. I don’t think I’m even capable of love anymore, not after Lucy was ripped away from me so cruelly, but every time he puts his arm around me in comfort, every time smiles my way, every time his voice warms up when he talks to me, I’m reminded that there is a door within my reach, a way to recovery, an opportunity that can lead me to happiness once more.

 

* * *

 

The night he kisses me, I’m prepared for it. I don’t push him away like I suspect I would. I draw him in, taking him into my mouth, letting his tongue force its way past my lips and lick every inch of me. His hand slides down the curve of my spine in light strokes, groping desperately over the curve of my ass as the kiss becomes hungrier. We are fighting now, fire fuelled back into our hearts as we battle each other for dominance over the kiss, tongues curling around each other, twisting, sliding, dancing. A smirk tilts my lips as he surrenders.

His mouth is colder than I expected. It’s a pleasant surprise, the odd sensation of ice against the heat of my mouth, the weird combination of fire and ice sending a jolt through my body, sending my hips snapping forward, thrusting up against him, pressing him into the wall. I pin his hands up above him. He withdraws from my mouth, leaning in close, licking a trail from my ear to the dip in my neck, sucking gently before biting down, drawing a shocked gasp from my throat, then eliciting moans of pleasure as he continues to tend to his mark. I tilt my neck back, exposing my skin more to this tender treatment. Instead of continuing, he moves back to my mouth.

He chuckles at my moans of disappointment. Cold hands wander, trembling slightly. They hesitate before pulling my shirt of over my head, shrugging his own off to land in a heap on the floor. I can sense his hesitation, the nerves that quiver through his body and I ask if he’s sure he wants to do this. I personally don’t care. If it will take my mind off things, then yes, I’ll do it, but Gray isn’t me. He’s more…fragile, shall we say, though his outward demeanour doesn’t necessarily show it. I don’t want to break him further.

He blushes. A gentle kiss is pressed against my lips before he backs away, leaving me dazed, confused but not exactly surprised. After all, if we fuck before talking about this, it would probably leave a whole shitload of awkwardness to deal with later. We both study each other. I ask what it is that he wants.

You, he says. I want you. Not for some quick fuck.

I stay silent.

He tells me he knows that it’ll take me a while to get over Lucy, hell, I might never get over her, but he can see I need something to alleviate the pain I’m feeling and he hopes I can come to care for him almost as much as I cared for Lucy.

I tell him I care. Just…I can’t do this. Not a relationship. I can’t. I’d only hurt him. He says he doesn’t care about me hurting him but I only shake my head, falling back onto the bed. “Please Gray.”

A shift of clothing and the slam of the bedroom door is all I get in response.

 

* * *

 

He comes back.

I haven’t moved from the bed, and he comes over to straddle me, his hands placed on either side of my head. I ask him again if he’s sure. We’ll both get hurt if we do this.

“More so than we already are?” he asks. I respond by pulling him down into a kiss.

We spend a while like that, limbs entwined, tongues busy with each other, lazily marking their territory in the other’s mouth. After a while, though, he gets impatient and breaks off to fumble with my trousers. I try to lend a hand; he slaps me away, so I busy myself in taking his shirt off again, my hands running over the smooth skin of his chest. I feel my trousers being pulled down, and I lift myself up to make it easier.

Once we are fully undressed, he looks down on me, like a predator. It’s strange. I’m used to being in control, always fighting for dominance. I’m never this submissive. I’ve never been on the bottom before, so it should be a new experience, though I don’t know about it being pleasant…

He fumbles in the drawer beside the bed for lube, and I feel the anticipation growing in my chest. It takes all my strength to keep my hands from reaching out to stop him; I do want this, but my inexperience leads me to think of disastrous conclusions. I had asked him if he was the one uncertain when, in reality, it’s me.

I banish these thoughts as he slicks up his fingers with the solution. I’m turned over onto my front, my knees bent to my chest and my ass raised. I’m shaking slightly. My arms tremble to keep me upright, my hands clenching into fists before I feel a trail of icy kisses up my spine.

“It’s gonna hurt if you don’t relax, flame-brain.”

Yes, I know this. Of course. I force myself to relax, something made easier when he reaches between my legs to grab my dick, gently stroking from root to tip, rubbing his thumb over the edge. He keeps kissing my back, continuing with his gentle administrations, and the passion with which he treats me gives me a surprise. Gray is not passionate. Gray is not gentle.

Something cold presses against my entrance. I gasp audibly. The use of his ice magic makes my skin extra sensitive to his touch, and I arch back as he pushes gently in with one finger, not caring about the pain, just wanting to feel _more_ , wanting all I can get…

He tortures me with a single digit, sliding in and out, waiting for me to get used to the feel so that I’m caught off guard when he adds another finger. I practically yell, wondering how I ever had any doubts about being on the bottom. It’s amazing. It allows me to feel human once more, to forget about everything, my sadness, my pain, my life, everything but the pleasure, the shivers that run through me as he scissors his fingers to stretch out my insides. At one point, he hits my prostate, and I scream in pleasure once he keeps hitting that point, thrusting in, out, a steady rhythm that accompanies the sliding hand still stroking my dick. The rhythm only breaks when he feels me tensing, on the brink of orgasm, where he takes his fingers out. I whine with need, something which I thought I would never do before my childhood rival.

I hear a rustle. I make to crane my neck around but one hand forces my neck down so I’m facing forwards still. Before long, I feel something else push into me, something larger than fingers, and I moan as I’m stretched further than I’ve ever been. Once he’s fully inside me, he allows me a few moments to adjust, kissing my back again before pulling out once I give a nod. He waits until just the tip of his cock is left in before thrusting in again, pushing far inside me. I grunt. Again and again, he drives himself in, the slap of flesh against flesh, the groans of pleasure and the yells of _more_ the only sounds to break the silence of night. At some point, his hand reaches forward to grip my dick again, stroking it in time to our movements. I realise he’s still kissing my back. Yeah, maybe it would be less complicated to just go fuck a prostitute and have no feelings complicating things, yet it would simply be rough, harsh and unfeeling. It wouldn’t take my mind off things. It will just remind me of how low I’ve sunk, of how Lucy would feel if she knew I’d had sex with some random stranger. I’ve always made sure to do it with someone I’ve been well acquainted with. Besides, Gray is being so attentive, so caring, gentle, _loving_ … When he thrusts forward again, I reach back, grabbing his hair, turning my neck to kiss him full on the lips. He pauses, stunned. Maybe it’s a bad idea to do this, for it will only make him fall further and that’s the last thing I need, for someone like him to fall for a monster like me…

He kisses back, still thrusting but with smaller movements this time. This way, it’s more personal. No, I should stop now. What about Lucy? What about all I’ve just said to him? About not being able to reciprocate his feelings? Shit, I’m digging myself a deeper hole, I need to get out of here, now…

He breaks the kiss, sliding out so he can roll me onto my back. I let him. My legs are now hooked over his shoulders, and he pushes in again, the pace increasing, only this time he’s hitting my prostate over and over and over… My vision goes white with pleasure, the feel of his lips on mine the last thing I feel before I’m sent over the top, gasping and yelling. I feel him tremble with release shortly after, and we both go limp, panting hard.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he mumbles. He groans in discomfort as he pulls out, ripping off the used condom and tossing it aside. I hiss at him to clean up his shitty mess, to which he runs a finger through the cum on my stomach and lifts it up to my face.

“I believe you have to take some responsibility here too,” he smirks.

We clean ourselves up. I don’t bother getting dressed, just climb under the covers of his bed and curl up into his side. It feels like it has been just an ordinary evening, what with this familiar position, and I would be persuaded this is all a dream if not for my nudity and the kisses he occasionally plants on my forehead. I feel so comfortable, so at peace for the first time in a year, and my last thoughts before drifting are that of Lucy. Tonight, I forget the torment her death had caused me, however brief the period of respite is. As Gray’s deft fingers draw lazy circles between my shoulders, I allow myself a tiny bit of hope that there is light in this dark, rotten world, however small that might be. And I will fight for that light. I will cling to it until I find my way out, and maybe then…maybe then things won’t be that bad.


End file.
